


distraction

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Mark - Freeform, Cock Worship, Coming Untouched, Humiliation, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sexting, Some Humor, Teasing, Trust Issues, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mark interrupts Johnny’s Insta live with a text and a picture.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Kudos: 86





	distraction

**Author's Note:**

> i saw this comment on some johnny fan-vid that apparently mark once sent him a text and a pic of himself in underwear during a livestream and johnny said he couldn’t read the text out loud, so...

“Have I eaten yet?” Johnny leans in closer to read the chat. It’s 5 pm on a Saturday. Actually, he’d slept in. They had no schedules and Johnny’s only been up for the past two hours. “-yeah, I’ve eaten. What? Oh, you know. Good stuff. I think it was leftovers from this Mediterranean place I went to yesterday —you guys should check it out actually, I think it’s called, uh...hold on, lemme search it up…”

He swipes across his phone tabs, flipping to his Saved locations on Maps. Right then, a notif pops down. Mark. Meaning to flip it away, Johnny accidentally clicks it and gets taken to his messages—Dark mode. The photo’s cut off from Mark’s mouth, ending at just the edges of his thighs peeking out of his tight black boxers. _Want you so bad, baby._ He’s slipped two fingers beyond his waistband. Slicked some sort of oil over his stomach, spotted with bruises Johnny doesn’t remember leaving there glinting in the lamplight. _So ready for you, fuck._

“Whoa, guys —sorry, can’t read this one out loud,” Johnny looks back up at his desktop, chuckling. The heat’s reached his ears —he was gonna kill this little fucker later. “-anyways, actually I just got a different call from the producers and I have to head over to the studio to work on, uh, some issue with the, uh, um, recording stuff, yeah. So yeah, uh, see you guys, I’ll be back soon —love you. Yeah, yeah. Stay healthy. Bye.” 

He smiles again, all teeth, cutting the video mid blown kiss. It came out halfhearted anyway. Thank fuck he’s wearing sweatpants, he picks at the fabric anyways, shifting his legs when he flips to the photo again. _Good God.._. Those boxers. Of all the terrible selfies Mark has complained of taking, why’d he have to be so skilled at _these_ ones...? One of these days the idiot was gonna upload the wrong shot on Bubble and get his ass beat for real. 

Johnny’s phone pings again when he’s in the elevator. Mark again —another photo and a stream of purple devil emojis. This time Mark’s got both arms looped back, gripping the pillow, torso folded at his belly button, knees up. His mouth’s open even wider now, shiny with spit. It’s taken from above and at first Johnny’s confused. Then he scoffs. Too unfair. Way too unfair. Even the guy’s feet were talented.

He feels more than a few stares following his rushed, shaky jaunt into Mark’s room. 

(Ever since Mark jokingly threatened to send the pics to the group chat they shared with their managers if Johnny didn’t show up within the next ten minutes, it’s been...)

“Really, really gotta pee!” He called over his shoulder, voice equally shaky. By the time Johnny’s shut the door, he’s lost the chance to patch it up _—what was he doing going up to the tenth floor just to pee…?_

(Initially, Johnny hadn’t taken him seriously and ignored his texts one night. The next morning Mark sent him a 40-second video of him breathless underneath some guy who looked too much like Manager Kim. Same wrist tattoo. Whole thing made him weak in the chest.)

_Actually, I didn’t like it much either. He went too fast and squeezed my hips too hard. I missed your hands. Missed how big they feel inside my mouth._

Mark glances up, phone in his lap, legs splayed plainly on the bed. He grins, absently biting his lip, scratching under his waistband. The motion makes the tip of his cock peek out, flushed and wet. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Johnny adjusts his sweats again, pressing his back harder against the door. The lock was broken. They’d have to figure out something later. “-what the fuck was that about?”

“Were you doing something?”

“Yeah, a live. Jeez, they were asking if I ate already.”

“Well, you did, didn’t you?” Mark grins wider, pushing his flimsy glasses back up. “-too bad you can’t tell ‘em what you had, though, huh.”

“Sure I can,” He snaps back. “-they don’t have to know everything.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“That I had Mediterranean.”

“Ohhhhh, okay. _Mediterranean_. So fancy,” He’s enjoying this way too much. “-should we go there next time?”

“You wanna go there next time?”

“Yeah, why not? I love going to places with you,” Said as he ran his nails loosely over the front of his boxers. “-you should let me treat you some time.”

“I really should.”

“You really should. You’re so good to me, hyung,” He presses his head against the bed frame, stroking the outline of his cock, other hand balled against the sheets. His voice comes out thin. “-I feel bad, you know? I know you’re still mad, let me make it up to you.”

Johnny exhales, fiddling with the sweatpants laces. It’s too late, he can’t hide it anymore, he’s three quarters there now. He could get himself to the bed in three long strides, but couldn’t shake off the embarrassment —either he’d have to stagger there with a hand over his crotch or walk over with his dick bobbing back and forth like a fucking boxing pin. Mark pushes his waistband further down until half his cock is out, pulling one knee to his chest so he could have a better angle. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

After that video, Johnny hasn’t been the same. It’s made him insecure. Now whenever he sees Mark chatting with some guy at the airport or an interview or some variety show, Johnny’s always sizing the guy up, trying to figure out if Mark would fuck him on a bad night. 

(He’s never succeeded, still.)

“Really?”

“Yeah. Nothing.”

“Okay,” Mark tugs at the head pointedly, wiping precum over the black cotton. “-come here. Come over.” 

“You come over. Didn’t you say you were so ready, Markie?”

The name changes him, a shift in his throat and Mark wedges himself obediently to the edge of the bed. He pushes up and barely gets his ass a few inches off before falling back down, wincing and chuckling some more. Presses his reddening face into the pillow.

“What’s the matter?” 

“Can’t move. Too hard,” He whines, rolling onto his stomach, pulling the pillow up between his legs, squeezing. “-hurts. Hurts, baby. Come overrr...”

“What if I don’t?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please come over…”

“Please come over and what?”

Mark stares at him stubbornly. The other stays put.

“Okay, baby,” He mumbles sliding off and dropping his bum onto the carpet, earning a few odd winces in his brow. “-Markie’s coming, Markie’s coming right now.”

He crawls somewhat stiffly over to Johnny, clawing up his sweats to drag them down to his ankles. Then Mark grabs the back of his knees and starts kissing up his legs. _Markie’s sorry, okay? Markie‘s so sorry. Markie only wants you, baby, nobody else can do it for Markie._ He feels slightly ridiculous saying all this but he’s rewarded with Johnny’s large warm hands in his hair, then smoothing his brow, tracing the hollows of his cheeks, thumbs pressing against his tongue, making him feel so small and owned, saliva running down his neck. He runs his fingers featherlight along the back of Johnny’s thighs until he buckles, sliding down against the door. Then Mark grabs his ankles and shuffles back on his knees, dragging the guy back with him. He hears Johnny complaining about the carpet friction burning his ass and he’s laughing in between kisses. _Markie’s gonna make you feel good soon, promise. Can you be a little patient for Markie?_

Mark doesn’t know how they manage to climb back onto the bed, but they do and then Johnny’s on top of him, cradling his face in his hands. Leans in and cards his nose in the sweetness of his semi-damp hair —Mark’s natural curls always came out best right after he showered. Mark grins.

“Lemme show you this trick I’ve been practicing.”

He slips his big toes under Johnny’s waistband and drags his boxers down with his feet. 

“And who’ve you been practicing it on…?” 

“Swimsuit mannequins.”

Johnny’s smile is pained. 

“Such a wild card, Markie.”

The other rolls his eyes, fighting the shift.

“I was kidding. Sorry.”

“Really? You never practiced.”

“Yeah. I never.”

“Well, no wonder,” Johnny looks down at the underwear that barely made it halfway to his knees. “-you’re godawful at it.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” He said affectionately, smacking his stomach with the back of his hand. “-get the rest off yourself. I already did the heavy lifting.”

And then Johnny’s laughing into his shoulder, finally pulling off his shirt and tying Mark’s wrists to the bed frame with it.

**—**

“Come on, get closer,” Mark mumbles, laughing softly when he gets knocked in the face with Johnny’s cock. He can’t strain his head too far being bound back and all, but Johnny helps him out, shifting in until his quads are on either side of Mark’s shoulders. He slips back into character easily. “-that’s it, baby. All up in my face, just like that. _Oh, yeah-h_. Markie likes it so much...” 

“God, Markie,” He breathes, hands tight in Mark’s hair. “-you look so fucking sexy like this. Fucking unreal.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” He admires the way Mark’s lashes on his right eye are stuck closed and glimmering from the tangled strings and beads of precum laced over his face. More beads gather at the edge of his nose and hang off his lip, swollen from kissing. Mark stuck out the tip of his tongue and started licking at the head, quick and shy, still getting used to the taste. Soon he’s using his whole tongue, licking slower and more deliberate stripes, pressing his palette firmly against Johnny’s shaft.

“So good, baby,” Mark slurs, still licking, nudging his nose affectionately over his heavy, swaying cock. He presses slick kisses all over it, sighing faintly as if it was making him lightheaded. “-wanna kiss it more, so good. Am I...am I good, baby?”

“Are you good?” Johnny echoes back, stroking his hair. Mark turns his face and presses his cheek against his palm and starts pressing kisses against the gaps between his fingers. Johnny tries not to close his eyes too often. Against his lids, Mark’s gasping under someone else. It makes him so upset, he wants to strike him. He digs his knees harder against Mark’s shoulders, hoping it’ll leave some kind of discolouration.

“Is Markie good? Tell Markie he’s good, baby…” The other whines, going back to licking thick stripes up his cock, wincing whenever it bonks his nose again. He doesn’t seem to notice the squeeze. “-Markie just wants to be good for you...”

“You’re good, baby,” Johnny nods, watching the lights play prettily over his eyes, pupils blown out, making his already large eyes look even wider. He pushes his fingers against Mark’s lips, letting him kiss them again, cock pushed to the corner of his mouth. He tells himself this is good enough. “-don’t worry, you’re so fucking good for me right now. So good, so gorgeous. Look at that face. All wet with my cock.” 

All those words seem to go straight to Mark’s dick and he struggles under the other’s weight, trying to shift his legs to lessen the burning heaviness against his stomach. Soon his tongue is so heavy with precum and saliva that it spills down his chin and all over his throat. Mark starts sucking at the head, making a muffled whine as Johnny pulls his hair tighter. 

“You like it, huh, baby? You like the way it tastes?” 

“Nnngh,” Is all Mark can manage as he strains to cram more of him into his mouth. If the words sound empty, he doesn’t register or doesn’t care. Johnny doesn’t know which is worse. The idiot looks up at him through his lashes, tearing up a little when precum gets in his eye. “-nnnghhhh, _nnnghhhh—hhhh…_ ”

Johnny grips his hair even tighter. He tries to focus on how Mark’s cheeks hollow out, damp hair framing that bone structure, those lashes damp and sticky, a look that’s always driven him mad until a few weeks ago. It’s unfair. It’s too unfair.

“I’m gonna start moving, okay, baby?” 

Mark wobbles his jaw faintly, the closest thing to a nod he can muster. Johnny loosens his grip only to change it to cradle the other’s head better. Even if he was still mad, Mark was his baby right now. He could snap his neck in this position, either with his hands or a jerk of the knees, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. Instead Johnny brushes his thumb over his Adam’s apple, feeling it tremble. Maybe he should be grateful. Mark didn’t put himself in this position often.

“You’re mine right now. Right, baby?”

Mark makes strained noises of agreement, raising his foot to stroke his calf. His eyes sparkle, positively radiant.

“Yeah. All mine,” He can’t kiss his forehead from this angle and just touches his temple. “-pretty baby Markie’s all mine right now.”

Then Johnny shifts back and eases himself in until Mark’s throat squeezes around him, so warm and tight. More saliva dribbles past his lips and Mark gasps, jerking his bound arms as Johnny pulls back until just the head rests against his tongue. He sucks on it loudly, whining for him to keep going. A couple more pushes and he stops and pulls out completely. Mark strains his mouth forward, but Johnny pushes his face back by the forehead, other hand holding his cock away from him. Mark cries, still trying to reach him with his lips, jutting his chin anxiously, fully capable of words, yet nothing intelligible leaving his mouth. He kicks Johnny’s ankle halfheartedly, whining some more. 

“I don’t think you deserve it, Markie. I’ve changed my mind. You just get to watch.”

**—**  
  
  


“Can you flip over for me, baby?”

Mark nods anxiously, scrambling to fold his knees under himself and twisting his torso, mumbling that he loves him. He grunts, hips straining to turn, jerking uselessly, cock swollen and making him hiss when it flops and grazes the mattress. He looks at Johnny with alarm and at first he thinks the guy’s just being stubborn, but then he notices something odd about Mark’s arms. Still tied to the bed frame, they seem to refuse to move with the rest of his body.

“ _Oh, baby_ ,” Mark grits, pointing his chin to his wrists. “-can’t...can’t —arms, arms are…”

“Your arms are numb, baby?” He’s met with more nodding and Mark flushes red when Johnny laughs and leans down to kiss his nose, getting come smudged onto his lip. He laps up the rest and mumbles _Open_ , dribbling it onto Mark’s tongue. He doesn’t have to tell him to swallow, kissing Mark’s hot, sticky mouth the whole time he’s undoing the knot. When the shirt drops, Mark’s knuckles slump against the wall, arms still splayed back. “-look at you, needing me to even move. What do you have to say for yourself?”

But Mark only shakes his head, pulling his knees up, shivering. He motions with his chest for Johnny’s arms. 

“Nothing? That’s not good.” He leans in again, hand easily wrapping around both of Mark’s ankles, pushing them to one side. Murmurs against his jaw. “-where’s that smart blabbermouth of yours, Markie? What happened to it?”

The other looks away. Mumbles he’s sorry.   
  
  


Johnny laughs again.

“You’re sorry? Okay. Sure, be sorry. Now look at me,” He pinches Mark’s cheeks with his other hand, holding it in place. “-can you repeat after me? Johnny, I can’t move, can you please flip me over and push my knees out until my ass is all up in your face like that’s the only thing I’m good for?”

He watches Mark squirm, knees quivering, nipples so hard he’s tearing up. He’s nodding again, saliva spilling over Johnny’s fingers, eyes still turned away. A line of precum has slipped down between his legs and Johnny swipes it across Mark’s lips, thinking, _yeah, this really is the only thing he’s good for._

“What’s wrong, baby?” Mark’s mouth opens, still nothing coming out. Johnny feels up and down his arms, they’re ice cold. He grazes his thumb against the inside of his wrist. “-are you waiting for me to let you start?”

Underneath him, Mark nods shakily again, gasping, lips forming only the beginnings of _yes_. 

“Oh? Such a good little baby,” His expression softens, leaning his mouth to his forehead. He spits on his hairline. “-okay, Markie, you can start now.”

Mark squeezes his eyes closed as saliva runs down his nose. He curls his knees even tighter to his chest, exposing his bottom laced with dried come. The sight makes Johnny want to fuck him right then and there, pushing his cock into those thighs if he couldn’t get Mark to open fast enough. Mark clears his throat.

“-J-Johnny, I c-can’t m-m-move…” 

“Yeah?” He starts picking off white crusts with his nails, leaving sharp red marks on Mark’s ass. “-then what? Go on —keep going.” 

“-I c-can’t move, c-c-can you please—

He pinches his face harder, making him whimper. 

“No, wait. That’s not right. I didn’t say that part twice. Start again.”

“J-Johnny, I c-c-c-can’t move, c-can you _pl-please…_ ” 

Tears mix in with his drool, Mark’s eyes red and darting all over the place. Johnny nods.

“F-flip me over…”

He flinches, feeling Johnny’s knee dig into his inner thigh, mere millimeters away from his groin. Johnny’s hand is so hard, Mark tastes blood inside his cheek. 

“Hang on. Am I hearing you correctly? Are you…” He stares at the hollow of Mark’s throat, stretched thin, his jugular fully exposed. “-actually giving _me_ an order?” 

Mark tries to answer, but his tongue gets tangled with his teeth and he’s sputtering consonants, rising in pitch when Johnny loosens his grip and rests his hand over his throat. 

“Start again. Say it properly.”

Mark waits for him to define it _—properly_. 

“Properly. None of those silly pauses. It’s just one sentence, Mark.”

He ducks his head down, genuine tears running down his face, trying to hide his cheek against his arm. He shakes as Johnny runs a rough, warm palm up and down his chest, as if he’s worried he’ll get his heart ripped out. It takes Johnny a full minute to realize Mark’s mouth is forming one word, over and over again, never reaching it because he keeps breathing over it, emphasizing all the wrong places.

“Oh, no, baby,” Johnny frowns. He stops moving his hand. “-did you say you _forgot_? Forgot the rest of the words?”

He doesn’t even nod this time, cheek wet against the sheets. Now Johnny can’t tell where he marked him —the spit has completely merged with the tears. 

“Do you need me to repeat the words?”

Mark gasps against his palm as Johnny turns him over again to face him.

“Listen closely this time, baby. Repeat after me, okay?” He waits until Mark can hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. “-Johnny, I can’t _move_ , can you _please_ flip me over and push my _damn_ knees out until my _poor_ _fucking_ _ass_ is in your face like it’s the _only_ _thing_ I’m _good_ for…?”

He makes Mark squirm with each curse. Then just to confirm what he’s suspecting, Johnny wedges the blade of his hand between Mark’s thighs until they fall open, making the bed bounce. Speak of the devil. Rock hard, ready to burst. So much precum, it’s turning his dick all filmy. 

“Just look at that. Jesus. We can’t have you coming all over yourself right now. Hold on, lemme help you with that,” Mark watches as the other bends over the bed’s edge and retrieves his stained black boxers from the carpet. He shakes head rapidly, thinking Johnny was gonna slip them back onto him —the thought of slipping back on his dirty boxers over his swollen cock was too much, he would come the second the cotton touched the head. 

Luckily, Johnny isn’t crazy and just holds Mark’s thighs open with his knees and stretches out the underwear a couple times, tying it tight to the base. He pauses.

“Now doesn’t that look pretty. Early Christmas present, but wrong colour,” Leans his mouth to Mark’s ear. “-wear red next time? Borrow Doyoung’s pair.”

_Even better, we should invite him to watch._ He doesn’t even have to say it out loud, he can tell Mark’s already thinking about it too, the way he’s burying his face into the pillow, red down to his neck.

“Is just watching enough, though?” Johnny continues, a fist around his cock, thumbing the slit. “-should we let him join in? Where do you want him? Behind you? Me? Or maybe between us both?”

No longer numb, Mark grabs the pillow and hurls it into his face, gasping. It doesn’t take a genius to realize the poor guy has forgotten his words again and this time Johnny spares him and flips him around, pushing Mark’s knees so far forward, he almost falls back down again. He holds Mark up by his waist.

“Grab the bed frame. Keep your arms fucking straight.”

Mark obeys and loses all strength in his elbows the second Johnny’s tongue touches his hole. He’s blubbering a stream of _Oh Gods_ , _Oh fucks_ and _Jesus fucking Christs_ as Johnny presses his nose against the dip of his ass, licking him all open. His thighs tremble uncontrollably and Johnny has to use all his arm strength to hold him up. He tries to get Mark to laugh by taking a bite of his asscheek, but the guy only whines louder and sticks his bum even farther out. He sucks on his hole until he can fit three fingers in and when Johnny presses his tongue in along with the fingers, Mark rips off the boxer knot and shoots all over the pillow, bed frame and even the wall, sobbing into his wrists. 

Collapsing backwards, Mark forgets Johnny’s still connected to him by the mouth and three fingers and swears when he lands straight on the guy’s nose. Johnny shouts and yanks all his fingers out, face still squashed under Mark’s ass. He starts smacking semi-anxiously on one buttcheek and has to bite his ass for real this time to get Mark to roll off —he’s laughing too hard and still recovering from his orgasm. 

When both of them have finally calmed down, Mark turns, wiping the blood off Johnny’s nostril. He’s about to lick it when Johnny grabs his wrist, shaking his head. 

“No, don’t eat that...That’s, that’s gross…”

Mark snorts. 

“You literally just ate my ass. Are you sure you should be talking?”

“In what regard?” 

He shoves him away, one hand over his mouth, the other behind him. 

“Stop, stop —you’re gonna make me _poop_ …” 

Sometime later, Mark slots himself under Johnny’s arm, snuggling up against his sticky chest. He brushes his fingers over his chin, turning him to face him. Stares at Johnny’s mouth and then tilts up to kiss him again. He lets his mouth linger, throwing a leg over and climbing on to straddle Johnny’s torso. Mark feels him flex underneath him and he exhales, cock twitching. He presses in harder, dragging his teeth softly down Johnny’s throat. Mumbles they should really shower, figure out the bed, maybe even vacuum the damn carpet. (They forgot about the door. Oh, well. Nobody came inside.) Johnny mumbles back why. _Then we should really fuck, like for real. Let me fucking ride you. Look, you’re getting hard already._

“You never...” He chuckles. Runs his middle finger up and down the dip of Mark’s ass, over the Nike track shorts the guy threw on earlier. “-get tired, do you?”

“Yeah,” Mark buries his face against his shoulder, sliding closer to his groin. “-I’m tired all the time.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

**—**

“So...how should we solve this?”

Johnny turns around from the bathroom sink, still scrubbing their boxers. It’s 1 am. They showered earlier, but just tossed their dirty stuff in the hamper. Mark sits crosslegged on the tub ledge, studying the contents of a shampoo bottle, holding it up to his nose —he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“What do you mean? Solve what?”

“You know. The manager thing. The thing you’re mad at.”

“Mark, he’s not a _thing_ _—_ he’s an actual living person that you slept with. To get back at me for ignoring you,” Johnny pauses, dropping the boxers into the soap. “-you know, that makes it bad for him too. I’m not the only one you should be feeling bad about.”

He hears the other guy hiccup and then curse, setting the bottle back onto the floor. 

“Then...do you want to fuck him? Let him fuck you?” He stood up. “-should we both fuck him?” 

“Wh— _nooo_ —Jesus, Mark. I wanna forget the whole incident,” Johnny groans. “-I don’t want him coming back into your life or _my_ life or—

“Then what do you want me to do…?” Mark scoffs, tossing his hands. “-dude, like my ass can’t _unswallow_ his dick.” 

The other bites back his laughter, focusing on the foam on the drain. He had to be firm. He couldn’t let Mark win this again. 

“I don’t know, Mark. I really don’t know. Just give me some time, okay?”

Mark sighs. Then he nudges Johnny’s ankle with his foot, pressing his cheek against his shoulder. He feels a tight tug in his throat when the guy shifts away, scrubbing again. He leans in so Johnny would see him whether he looked in his direction or not. Hiccups again.

“Okay, yo, if I could give us both cock amnesia, I would, okay? Like what do you want me to do, jeez —should we go to some mystic or palm reader or whatever and get them to fucking _hypnotize_ us and—

“-Mark, _stop_. Just stop it, okay, just stop,” He drops the boxers down again. He sits down on the toilet lid. “-stop trying to make it funny. It’s not. It’s not funny. I know we’re not technically dating or anything, but I still like you enough that I _care_. You’re not just a fuck to me, okay?”

They both say nothing for a while. 

Mark steps in front of him, sliding down against the door to sit on the floor. He looks up at him and this time his expression‘s different. 

“...Then what do you want me to do?” He asks again, softer. “-what can I do to make it better?”

  
  
Johnny refuses to look at him, cradling his forehead in his hands.

“You can’t take back what you did —didn’t you say that yourself?”

“Yeah, no _shit_ —so I’m asking what you want me to _do_. Jeez, I fuck up _once_ and y—

“-It’s not about fucking up —you _intentionally_ fucked him—

“-Then what do you want?!” Mark shouted back. He swallows, wincing. “-what, are you gonna get a knife and take this to my fucking grave or something? Oh, _wait_ , is this abou—

“-Mark—

“-Is this about my being _Christian—_? _Oh, so God made me perfect_ —I can’t make a _single fucking mistake_ —

“- _Shut the fuck up, Jesus Christ—”_ He grabs the nearly empty conditioner bottle and hurls it at the corner of the door, missing Mark by mere inches. “-Mark, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you? Where did this Christian _bullshit_ come from—

His voice rang too loud and suddenly Johnny realizes he’s the only one yelling. The silence afterward is jarring. As the reverberations fade, he becomes aware of a softer, weaker sound. Breathing, it’s just breathing.

“-Then what do you want, Johnny?” Mark wipes at his eyes, shoulders shaking. The bottle lay dented on the floor. Paint chips stuck to his arm. “-you’re really scaring me right now. I didn’t know if I was imagining it earlier, but now I think you wanted to do this to me back there too. I…”

He presses his palms against his eyes, gasping. He hears a crack when Johnny gets up and flinches, kicking his hand away when Johnny tries to touch him. Mark hugs his arms tight around himself, curling away from him, crying against the door.   
  


  
Johnny stares at him and feels like a piece of shit. He presses his temples, sighing. He looks at him and tries to keep his voice as gentle and level as he can. He avoids directly looking at Mark, afraid it’ll trip him up.

“Mark. Hey. Mark, please, I’m sorry —I’m really, really sorry —I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have thrown that—” Johnny reaches for his shoulder, then pulls back. He stares at the floor. He sighs. Presses his head against the door. “-I’m sorry for that. I really am. And I’m sorry for scaring you. I shouldn’t have kept it to myself —I was wrong too, I should have just talked to you —we should’ve—

“-I didn’t just text you because I wanted to fuck—” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Exhaled raggedly. “-you’ve been avoiding me for the past two _weeks_ —you won’t sit next to me in interviews, you won’t sit next to me when we all go out to eat,” He picks up the conditioner bottle and crushes it in his hands, staring at the floor. “-you only come up here when you need to borrow _Jaehyun’s_ _laptop_ for _DJ_ _shit_ —you only pretend to _tolerate_ me when you’re doing those vlogs…”

“Mark, I don’t _pretend_ to tolerate you, I—

“-Then please _help me out_ …” Mark gasps. He turns to him, not wiping his tears anymore. “-tell me how I can fix this. I don’t want you to hate me anymore. Please, I can’t take it, I can’t sleep properly.”

Johnny doesn't know what to say. He stares at their feet. He doesn’t do anything for a while. Eventually, he gently leans his knee against Mark’s. He doesn’t move it away. Mark says nothing, but he doesn’t move his away either. They stay like that for some time. 

He waits until Mark leans back into him, shoulder to shoulder. 

“Alright. Let’s try this,” Johnny said. “-just tell me one thing. Tell me one thing and I’ll try to let it go.”

“Okay.”

“Why did you do it? Why’d you get involved with him? Didn’t you say you didn’t even like him?”

“I said that _afterwards_ , I didn’t—

“-Okay, okay, _fine_ , regardless whether you realized it before or after _—why_?” 

“Didn’t you figure it out already?” Mark grumbles. “-I wanted to _get_ _back_ at you for ignoring me—

“-That’s _my_ interpretation —I want to know what _you_ think, what you _were_ thinking at the time.” 

Mark stares at him. Then he looks at the floor, groaning.

“I was lonely. And horny. You were tired. I didn’t want to bother you. So I found someone available, okay? Plain and simple.”

“Why’d you _send_ that shit to _me_ , then...?” Johnny squints, looking so disgusted Mark almost starts laughing. “-did you think that it would turn me on or something?”

Mark flattens his mouth. He blinks, scratching the back of his head. Gulps.

“...uh...maybe, yeah.”

Johnny stares at him. He waits for Mark to tell him he’s joking. He doesn’t.

“Dang, what the fuck,” He squints again. “-so...so I can assume that _you_ would be into that, right?”

Mark shrugs.

“Maybe. Yeah. Definitely.”

Johnny scoffs. His mouth’s caught between a laugh and a sob and it’s so funny-looking Mark starts laughing instead. 

“You...You, what the fuck,” He said again, rubbing his nose bridge. “-so...so if _I_ fucked some random guy and sent that to you — _you_ would enjoy it.”

“Maybe. If he’s hot enough, then yeah.”

  
  
Johnny stares at the ceiling, still unable to quite believe it.

“You’re so odd, Mark. Why haven’t you ever told me about this before?”

“Well, maybe you’d think I’m _so odd_ ,” He wags his head at the words, making Johnny snort. “-and I was right, too. Guess I know you better than you know me.”

“So…” Johnny waves that off, still willfully three steps behind. “-when I said Doyoung earlier —you were genuinely, like…”

“Oh, yeah. Totally. I mean, we can’t always, you know, _align horny energies_ together like,” He ignores Johnny’s expression, continuing on. “-so if you’re okay with it and he’s okay with it, you guys can like go ahead and bang one off —you know, just send me the highlights so like I can enjoy it too.”

“How you could prefer _that_ over an _actual_ threesome is beyond me.” 

“I just like _watching_ _—people_ _—fuck_ , okay?” Mark blurts out, emphasizing each word with his hand like some politician. Right then, the door swings open and Doyoung stares at them before stepping over their legs to grab the extra tube of face cleanser by the sink. He mutters that they ran out downstairs and apologizes for intruding, leaving just as awkwardly. 

They both look at the door, then each other and burst out laughing. 

“Jeez, Mark…” The other sighs later. “-you really need to learn how to _align your horny energy_ to _yourself_ sometimes…”

**—**

On Christmas Eve, Mark finds a large package placed neatly in the middle of his bed, wrapped in shiny candy-canes and bells. He picks it up, shakes it and somehow got the instinctive feeling he should open it in the bathroom. Sitting down against the door, he slits the wrapping off with a nail file and frowns at the matte black box. No branding, no stickers, not even a little card to tell him who it’s from. He lifts off the lid and stares. 

Nestled in the deep velvet is a palm-sized device, hot pink with a plus and minus sign imprinted along the center. It kinda looked like an Air Pod (that got fucked up in the washing machine and grew ten sizes and changed colour), but Mark knew exactly what it was. He picks up the folded note underneath and snorts.

_This little gizmo has bluetooth control too, so don’t go saying I’m too tired or whatever. It’s a button on a phone, Mark, I can use my damn toe. (This better be inside you even when you’re fucking other people.)_

_(P.S. ...I’m kidding.)_

_(P.P.S. ...Half-kidding.)_

_—Yours Truly_

**Author's Note:**

> no nut november, pls forgive me lol
> 
> (honestly, just hammered this out in three days bc of quarantine stress, felt cute in production and now lowkey hate it everywhere except the first part and the last part, hopefully wasn’t too bad for y’all —stay safe and merry early christmas lmaoo 🎄🎄🎄✨✨)


End file.
